Relatable
by Dreaming-Of-A-Nightmare
Summary: Santana flees the hallway after Brittany lets her down. She cries in the choir room, but is unluckily caught by the least likely of people: Karofsky. But... he has some secrets to share, and she finds that the can relate to one another.


**A/N: I know I've seen one before where Santana bitchily-but-kindly (if that makes any sense) found Dave and talked to him… but after 2x15, I needed to see this happen. So I wrote this, and I hope… I hope no one else has written it, and I hope it works, and I hope it doesn't seem too weird. I just… I see so many blaring similarities between Santana and Dave – even before this episode – and I wanted to expand on it a bit.**

* * *

She just… ran away.

She couldn't take it. The rejection. The pain. The unrequited love. The fact that she knows it could never work, not now, not in high school, not with all these homophobic people around.

Santana couldn't take it.

She slept with guys time and time again, and it was all acting. Inside, she was just going through the motions. That's why she was so casual when she and Finn did it, and why it was just a game to her when she and Puck sex-texted one another: she played the slut to hide who she truly was. She even told Brittany why she's bitchy and sarcastic and devious all the time: because she's afraid.

She's afraid of so many things. She confessed them all, bore her soul, because she trusts Brittany. And when Britt said that feelings matter, that it makes making out and other acts worthwhile, Santana took these words to heart. She thought about them over and over again, and replayed 'Landslide' over and over again, and she thought long and hard about it. About everything.

Love. Brittany. Her jealousy toward Artie. Kurt being chased out of school. And finally, being a lesbian. A real one, because as attractive as guys are, Santana only loves one person. She only cares about her best friend, the girl she's grown up with, held, touched, and wanted more of for what feels like as long as she can remember.

High school is complicated, they say. Well, "they" never met Santana Lopez.

She rushes to the choir room – the only safe haven in this damn school – and proceeds to cry. No one is here. No one needs to know.

No one needs to see how torn up inside Santana truly is.

But just her luck: there is a witness. A witness that makes her feel sick inside and she wants to scream and yell at.

"Get. Out," she says lowly, her voice wavering like it had with Brittany moments ago (she had been so nervous, so scared of being overheard; she had been looking back and forth across Brittany's face, trying to gage her reaction, and it all just went downhill from there, so how is this any different?).

"I… But Lopez, you're _crying. _That's not… I mean, I've never seen you cry. Something wrong? – Er, well, obviously something is, but… care to tell me? 'S not like I'll say anything."

"Why the Hell should I say anything to _you, _Karofsky? Kurt and I weren't pals by any means, but he was still one of _us, _one of the Glee kids. And you _ruined _that," Santana barks, and Karofsky jerks backward, looking intimidated.

He sighs tiredly. "I know. Okay? I know, all too well. But, look… obviously this is something you're dealing with that even your Glee buddies can't help you with. So mind sparing me the dramatics and coming out with it? I swear I won't say a word. Just tell me."

"Why do you even _care?_" she drawls with a hint of angry confusion and disgust. She makes a scoffing sound and places her hands over her chest as she furrows her brows.

"Because, Lopez. I was walking by when you were talking to Pierce, and I can read lips. Either you said 'olive juice,' which would be ridiculous, or you said, 'I love you.' And I'm pretty sure you don't get teary eyed when you're casually telling a friend how much you just _love _them," he replies firmly, making a point to differentiate the two loves with a slightly girlish tilt to his tone.

Santana freezes, going paler than she was a second ago, and her face wipes almost clean. It's replaced with her usual bitchy scowl. "I don't know what you're talking about," she sneers, turning half away from him.

The jock takes a step closer. "Santana…" and she's startled by the use of her first name, "How about we cut a deal? I'll tell you a secret, and then you can tell me one, and so on. Back and forth. Not friends, not enemies, not jock and ex-Cheerio. Just… people. One on one."

He looks uncharacteristically sincere, and Santana spares a glance at him. With a roll of her eyes and a sigh, she wipes some leftover tears trails on her cheeks, sniffs once, and throws up her hands. "Fine. Sure. Whatever. But you're definitely going first, so I can see if I can even trust you."

Karofsky smiles sadly. "That won't be a problem." His smile falls, and he drops his gaze. In a mumble, Karofsky admits, "See, my first secret is: I love Glee Club. I wish I could join, but I'm too scared of ruining my reputation. I told Finn when he asked me to join permanently that people's memories for good stuff only lasts about as long as their Facebook status. It's true. That's why I don't want them to forget the jock I am and replace it with the geek I am inside. But really, I love singing. I envy all of you who have the balls to do it." He gestures to her as he looks at her again. "Your turn."

Santana huffs a sigh. A little reluctantly, she mutters, "I… Hate sex. I have a lot of it, but none of it means anything. There's nothing in it for me, nothing but being a social shield from my true feelings." She shrugs. "You go."

"I didn't mean what I said to Kurt. About wanting to kill him or anything. I would never hurt him like that. I only said it because I was afraid. I didn't want people talking behind my back if they knew what he knows. I needed him to keep a secret."

"What secret?" Santana says suddenly, looking at him for real.

He shakes his head. "I'll get to that. But right now it's your turn."

"Fine." She sighs. "I-I did tell Brittany that I loved her, okay? It's true. I love her. I want her. I don't care about stupid boys, only her." She points at him, making this a competition. "Now you, Karofsky. And you better tell me something good."

He tightens his jaw. "I… I kissed Kurt."

Well, that's the last thing she expected to hear. Her jaw drops a little and her eyes widen, brows rising. She's tempted to stutter, 'What?' or, 'Come again?' but she can't. She's honestly speechless.

Karofsky groans and hangs his head. "Look. I know how it sounds. But hear me out on this secret, okay? It was a few months ago – last semester, last year, whatever you want to call it – and Kurt came after me one day when I shoved him like usual. Er, well, I knocked his phone out of his hands, too, but whatever. Point is, he was screaming at me. And I dunno, I had to tell him. Show him. Let him know that I bullied him because I couldn't let anyone know about my real feelings, that I actually liked him, and that I wanted him, and that I'm actually… actually…"

Santana suddenly feels like crying again. No, no, no, no. This isn't right. Karofsky is like _her?_ A more violent case since he's a boy, but still, he's like she is? He's secretly homosexual, in love with someone of the same gender, and he's terrified of what others will think or say? Because, like her, he could defend himself outright if he had to. That isn't the issue. It's a matter of gossip and getting a shitty rep tacked onto you.

"Karofsky… I had no idea," she murmurs, and she's shaking her head. "I mean, you're a real asshole, but I'm a bitch, and it's just… so stupid. Why are we like this? We could be nicer, could have the people we want, the people we _love, _but we're too goddamn stubborn. We push them away instead, because we don't want rejection or all of the gossip. God, we're pathetic," she mumbles, and she's about to cry again. Out of all the people in this school, she relates to _this _guy. And she actually is considering befriending him, if only because, at this point, he's the only one who _gets_ it.

"I know I am. At least you might look in the mirror and see a pretty girl who knows other people desire her. Me? I always see this piece of shit coward of a guy who can't even keep his feelings contained enough to keep the one person who matters at the same school," Karofsky replies, and he's actually laughing, but it's a broken, tragic, ironic laugh that hurts Santana's ears in that _I-know-you're-about-to-cry_ way.

"You're right, that was a pretty douchebag move of you. Not smart, either. But… I get where you're coming from," Santana murmurs. "I sabotage other relationships because I can't have the one I need most, and I'm jealous. And I guess you just sabotage yourself, don't you, Karofsky?"

He nods glumly. "Yeah, I do. But it might be safer that way. Kurt's at least better without me, and I don't have to be tempted every day to show a piece of my true self. It must be hard for you."

"It is. Every day I play up mine and Britt's friendship because I figure it's the only way I can come close to having her," she admits. It feels so weird to be talking to Karofsky this way, but for the both of them, they are wounded and tired of fighting it and are generally so vulnerable that once the dam broke open, everything inside that they've been keeping in is pouring right out like a flood.

"I wish I could change things," Karofsky mumbles, nearly inaudibly. "Because I miss him."

Santana moves to lay her hand timidly on the footballer's shoulder. "He'll be back someday, I bet. He can't stand being unable to dress up the way he likes everyday for long. Plus, that place is hella expensive. So he'll be back. And then maybe you can set things right."

"I hope so," Dave whispers, and then he shrugs off her hand and stands from the chair he had been sitting on. "What about you, though?"

"I'll figure something out," Santana shrugs, flipping back her hair. "I'm Santana-fucking-Lopez, after all."

"…At least your confidence is back," he grins.


End file.
